The Blood of Another
by shortbuschick1462
Summary: Following Kirk's revival with Khan's blood, but with a twist. Kirk was human, but with Khan's blood, is he a superhuman? Takes place before the Enterprise leaves on her five-year mission at the end of Into Darkness.
1. Questions

**Author's Note: I am a complete Star Trek nerd. Into Darkness was phenomenal (I know some will not agree with that statement, but what can you do), and I just had one idea that I thought I would make a fic out of. If I do it right, I think it could be really fun. Enjoy, and please read and review! If I get anything wrong or you have a question, do not hesitate to PM me about it. Accuracy is something that I would hate to lose. This story is in the alternate reality of the 2009 Star Trek and Into Darkness.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek franchise. The genius belongs to J.J. Abrams.**

"_If you put one scratch on that car—!"_

"_My name is James Tiberius Kirk."_

"_So your dad dies. You can settle for less in a normal life."_

"_I will not allow us to go backwards—you run from the problem instead of hunting Nero down!"_

"_I relieve you, Sir."_

"_I am relieved."_

"_That would be so noble, Pointy, if you weren't also throwing me under the bus."_

"_I was demoted, you were reassigned."_

"_Permission to reinstate Mr. Spock as my First Officer."_

"_My crew is my family. Is there anything you would not do for your family?"_

"_They need someone in that chair who knows what he's doing. And it's not me, Spock. It's you."_

"_You're not making the climb."_

"_How do you choose not to feel?"_

"_I do not know. Right now, I am failing."_

"_I want you to know why I couldn't let you die…why I went back for you."_

"_Because you are my friend."_

James Tiberius Kirk opened his eyes, cutting off the flow of memories. He stared into the darkness of the room, trying to make sense of it all. Of course he was happy to be alive, to have been gifted with the chance of revival.

But, at what cost?

Khan's blood was running through his veins. Keeping his heart pumping, brain functioning, lungs breathing. Some of the person he loathed was now maintaining his life. Pike's murderer was sustaining him.

It was not Jim's only qualm with his current state. If he had the blood of Khan—a genetically engineered superhuman—in him, then did that make him…superhuman? He didn't know. He hadn't even been out of the room he'd came back alive in yet.

Jim flexed all available muscles, feeling for injuries that had not quite healed yet. He felt the twinges of bruises around his ribs and other places, but nothing drastic. He placed his feet on the cold tile of the floor and stood.

So far, so good.

He walked out into the main room where members of his crew were sitting: Spock, Uhura, Bones, Sulu, Chekov, and Carol. If anyone would know the answer to his question, then it would be Bones.

They were deep in conversation, so he cleared his throat. Spock immediately stood at attention. "Captain," he greeted formally. There was concern in his eyes, though.

Kirk chose to speak directly with McCoy. "Bones."

Warily, the doctor stood. "Jim?"

Jim saw the unasked question in McCoy's eyes and was quick to reassure. "I feel fine, Bones. But, I need to talk to you. Alone," he added when Bones sat silently, expectantly.

McCoy hesitated. "Jim…" he trailed off in a sigh. "You really need to rest."

"Please, Bones." Kirk nearly winced at the desperation in his voice. While being demoted had most assuredly taught him a lesson, he was still acclimating to openly displaying fervent need for the help of others.

The doctor looked at his friend, and then conceded. "Alright."

They retreated back to the room where Jim had just come from. He grimaced a bit when McCoy turned the lights on; sudden brightness made him feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes.

"What is it, Jim?"

"I have a question about the transfusion." Bones's face was twisted into concern as Jim fought to phrase his fears correctly. "Bones, if Khan's blood is in me, then…am I still me?"

"Personality traits aren't transferred through blood, Jim," McCoy replied slowly, not quite getting his friend's meaning.

"No, I'm not talking about that. Khan said it himself: he was a genetically engineered superhuman. It was all in his blood." Jim let his words sink in. "So, if I have Khan's blood…does that make me superhuman?"

Bones sank down onto the bed, scratching the back of his head and burning a hole into the floor with his stare. "I thought about this when the transfusion was taking place," he admitted. "Thing is, Jim, we won't know for sure until the…_qualities_—_if_ the qualities—make their debut. There's no surefire way to tell if you have superhuman strength or any other superhuman ability until you're actually put into a situation where you'd have to use them."

Kirk sat on the bed beside his friend. "So, it is possible," he whispered. The prospect of him being an equal of Khan frightened him to the core.

McCoy ran a hand through his hair. He didn't know what answer to give him that would ease his mind and give him peace, so the doctor just settled for the truth.

"Yes, Jim. It's possible."


	2. First Impressions

**Author's Note: After seeing Into Darkness for the THIRD time, I have decided that it is my favorite movie. Haha! Enjoy, read, and review!**

**Disclaimer: Not one iota of the Star Trek universe belongs to me.**

Jim Kirk liked running. It got his blood pumping, adrenaline racing. He loved feeling the burn in his muscles, telling him that he was pushing his limits. He loved making new limits. Hearing the pounding of his feet against the ground told him just how fast he was going. Jim kept his breathing constant and pushed himself faster, faster…faster.

He was sprinting now. No holds barred, fully focused. Trees flew by him, becoming dark blurs. Through the completely calm sea in his chest, Jim felt a wave of elation. It had been over a month since the transfusion, and this was the first time that he had done anything physically strenuous. But, being able to run again was not what thrilled him.

Kirk was watching his run closely; it was as much an experiment as it was a stress-relieving activity. As far as he knew, Khan hadn't had superhuman speed, but it never hurt to make sure. Jim was absolutely maxing himself out. Though going fast, he was not going superhumanly fast. This speed seemed no different from the speed he normally ran at, and for that, he thanked God.

However, he noticed something else as well: he wasn't going any faster than normal, but he also wasn't getting tired. And getting tired was normal.

Jim sprinted as hard as he could for another mile and a half. The burning he craved never settled itself into his muscles or chest, and he finally stopped. He wasn't even breathing hard, but he longed to. Pinpricks of fear stabbed around his heart. Spock had described to Jim how he'd caught Khan—the chase, the fight, everything.

Spock had said that the run didn't even tire Khan one bit.

Something inside Jim told him to run until he got tired, to run until his body collapsed. To cling to any desperate hope that he was just crazy and imagining these things. But, he could not imagine the steady beat of his heart, the calm throb of his veins. Everything was…normal. After sprinting for nearly two miles, Jim felt like he'd just been taking a nice walk in the park. This new normal was utterly unnerving.

Kirk's communicator beeped, tearing him back to real life. He flipped it open. "Yeah?"

"I _really_ hope you're not over three miles out." McCoy's voice contained an underlying threat. Before Jim had left on his run, Bones had strictly told him to take it easy. Apparently, his body was still "adjusting."

"I'm not," Kirk lied automatically. McCoy had always been one hell of a pushy doctor, but ever since last month, he'd been suffocating.

There was a moment of silence. "Dammit, Jim!" Bones hissed. "I told you that three miles was your max. Told you to keep it below, if you could manage! Do you have any idea what would happen if your body became overwhelmed?"

Jim sighed. It was disgusting how easily his friends could see through some of his lies. "Look, I'm sorry, Bones. I just…I wasn't paying attention. Got lost in my thoughts."

"Of course you did," the doctor replied scathingly. "Get yourself back here for a checkup, now. And take it _slow_! Nice and easy."

Before the captain could even get a word in, Bones disconnected. Kirk glared at the communicator, snapping it closed. He turned and flickered his gaze over the trail in front of him.

Blatantly defiant, he once again took off in an all-out sprint, vowing to go until he felt his lungs begin to burn. He'd sprint the whole damn four and a half miles if he had to.

When he arrived back at the building, Jim's chest was heaving. He'd slowed down for the last mile, and that was it. A smile spread across his face at the burning sensation in his lungs and muscles.

It disappeared as his breathing stabilized in a matter of seconds, his pulse returning to normal and dispelling the burn.

Jim angrily swiped a hand through his sweaty hair. He didn't know what to do with his emotion, so he simply kicked at the dirt beneath his feet, grinding his teeth together. The run he'd just taken would have caused him to pop a lung under normal circumstances.

But, his circumstances were no longer normal.

Kirk inhaled deeply through his nose, feeling the eerie calm throughout his muscles. Again, it seemed like all he'd done was take a skip through the park.

Bones's words rang through his head, and Jim scoffed aloud.

"Adjusting, my ass."


	3. A Day Away

**Author's Note: Hey, guys! Sorry for the absence. So, here's the thing. I'm basically in love with James T. Kirk. I would guess a lot of you are, too…am I right, ladies? (; Anyway, here's the next chapter!**

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine except this small idea.**

Jim Kirk jerked awake with a roar. His eyes were wide, darting around the dark room in search of any forms of danger. Fists were clenched into the sheets and arms were shaking. His face was covered in a sheen of sweat.

The man held his vigilance for a moment more, then relaxed with a tired sigh, falling back onto the bed. Nightmares were becoming the norm for him. _If I'm going to dream that for the next ten years…_ Jim thought to himself. He could suddenly feel the stifling heat that he was covered in and threw back the sheets, touching his feet to the floor. The plush carpet was warm to the skin and very cushiony.

"Lights at seventy percent," Jim commanded with a yawn, walking into the bathroom. He wet a washcloth with icy water and molded it to his face until the heat from his body made it lukewarm. As it plopped back into the sink, Jim stared at himself in the mirror.

Tan skin, blonde hair, blue eyes. That little scar on his cheek. The face was his. Jim squinted, trying to look deeper into his own eyes. Was it just him, or did they look…darker?

He scoffed at himself. Jim left the bathroom with a garbled order for the lights to turn off and went back to bed, this time sleeping dreamlessly.

* * *

They were taunting him. Taunting him by just sitting there on the mat, twinkling at him and crooking an inviting finger. A sick feeling settled into the pit of Jim's stomach.

"Those won't lift themselves."

The soft chuckle came from behind him. Carol Marcus was pulling a brush through wet locks, grinning playfully at him.

"Yeah." Jim barked out a mirthless laugh, looking back to the weights. "I guess they won't."

"I was watching for a few minutes to see what you would do."

Jim peered back at her over his shoulder, arching a brow and smirking. "Do you watch me a lot?"

A touch of color graced Carol's cheeks. "Don't try to change the subject. What's your problem with them?" She nodded towards the weights.

He was quiet for a moment. It would sound weak if he told her why he didn't want to lift them. "I don't know."

Carol kept her eyes trained on Jim's shoulders. They were tight, not relaxed like they should be if he was simply standing around. Ever since his…death, Jim had been different. Which was natural, of course, but usually he adjusted quickly after traumatic events. Pike's death, for instance. She knew he still felt pain over it, but he wasn't letting it affect his everyday behavior like it had for the first week or so.

And yeah, dying himself was a bit more rough than experiencing someone else's, but it wasn't like Jim to keep dwelling on something rather than move on. She hadn't spent much time with him since the transfusion. She had, however, overheard Bones and Spock discussing some side-effects that Jim may experience from taking on Khan's blood. Carol could only guess that those were what was keeping the old Jim bottled up.

"You wanna get out of here?" she asked suddenly.

Jim turned, stunned. He glanced back at the weights, then shrugged and smiled. "That sounds good."

_Anything to keep me from myself_.

**A.N. This is a two-parter. That's why it's kinda short :)**


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